


Quell

by PaP



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (IDW Comics), Sonic the Hedgehog (Video Games), Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Forbidden Love, Gender Roles, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Objectification, Older Characters, References to Addiction, Self-Acceptance, Self-Denial, Self-Destruction, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, Self-Reflection, Self-Sacrifice, Social Commentary, Tragic Romance, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, intimate friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:52:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23812609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaP/pseuds/PaP
Summary: Love and lust and the loss of sensations, entirely.
Relationships: Amy Rose/Blaze the Cat, Rouge the Bat/Jewel the Beetle, Shadow the Hedgehog/Sonic the Hedgehog
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Quell

At this gathering of friends old and new, beautiful and radiant Rouge has remained close, thus far, at Shadow’s handsome, brooding side, providing him with comfort and distraction from the rest with her husky conversation and familiar touch.

Many times over, already, he’s communicated to her – such as with his fingers, trailing against hers, and his lips, parted from her cheek by mere breathy murmurs – in that manner of intimacy their friends always misunderstood as romantic, that this is unnecessary, because he has been taught so much, by her, already, about greasing the turning gears of social interaction and lessening the cost of survival that is enduring stress in the midst of the people he loves yet tolerates. Without her, he says, he wouldn’t be here, couldn’t maintain. Thus she needn’t do more, needn’t give more, for the sake of his antisocial wellbeing.

She tells him he’s being silly with a slight turn of her head and a kiss on his lips, and then advises him to stand a little straighter and to pay attention as her cool gaze swivels, casually greeting Sonic from a distance, approaching determinedly.

Shadow stiffens and Rouge squeezes his elbow, once, a reminder of the competence in himself, her faith in him.

There’s something flirtatious about the blue hedgehog’s dashing intervention, something that aggravates, unsettles and allures the dark hedgehog upon warm, gentle impact, a friendly hand patting a stern yet not unmoved shoulder, the angling of this other male’s hips and shoulders serving as an invitation, a request, which is yet to be denied even as more words are spoken by tongue and eye, voice and body. Sonic’s smirk is white and sharp, drawing Shadow’s crimson interest with winking emerald and a friendly suggestion that they don’t keep in touch nearly enough.

The bat could almost laugh aloud, but she keeps the laughter inside, instead, and busies herself with a roving study of her friends, since she is hardly needed, here. Hardly, anymore. This is good. This is all she can hope for. The Ultimate Lifeform needs room to grow into himself, to be a man who knows himself. She's tried not to be overbearing, overprotective. She just needs to remember, someday, to let go.

Further along, Amy is consoled for her lost love by Blaze, consoling in turn for the same pain. The hedgehog, still so unused to being an adult and fully bloomed in her beauty and strength in the city that knows her name, still has the smaller and more feminine hands which tentatively explore the narrower, more masculine queen, tracing the length of slender biceps whilst they talk, but of the two, the cat quietly says more, and the bat listens.

Rouge can’t help but listen. It’s who she is, what she is.

It’s talk of won wars and arranged marriages and the nature of such things, the unfortunate goodbye as royal duty demands, ultimately, some sacrifice of the self.

She listens and she hurts, too, seeing the expressed pain in Amy and Blaze.

It must be done. Desire has no precedent. The sacrifice of a love is needed for the greater purpose of a functionally biomechanical woman, her inevitable obligation being to birth an heir to the kingdom, as duty expects a queen to do.

The love must accept the inevitable, that is, to be silenced, left behind, censored. And it's unfair but not unusual, not unexpected. Still, so unprepared.

Rouge wishes them the best out of it, this dead union, what little they may still have to partake in it. She hopes that there may yet be years of happiness, thus paying Sonic and Shadow far less attention as the men flirt and deny and return, enjoying a bond with so much potential to thrive as something different.

The hedgehog says, in a pause, that she thinks such a burden is awful and she can barely stand it, but she will, for her.

The cat says nothing, but instead steps closer, leans in and kisses the tears away in gratitude, to her.

The bat has to look aside, anywhere but at Amy and Blaze’s embrace, at anyone but Shadow and Sonic.

The music, the laughter, it's all so strange.

Rouge’s wandering eye sees the room in interruptions through the flutter of her dark, dappled lashes, obliterating the unshed tears stealthily, making her seem tired as well as proudly distressed to the stranger across the room. It’s romantic, in retrospect, to think sometime after tonight that it’s the expression of concern and sympathy that fills a brief frame of interest worthy of garnering another look, eye forced to expand its lens to comprehend, like genuine kindness from strangers is such a rare thing, for such a beautiful woman.

Movement of a body, of light and darkness pooled and bent, embracing the body, moving with and upon the body, absorbing the colours of the world like a celestial, iridescent shroud, but the surface is smooth and unyielding, like armour made from impossibly refined meteorite. The beetle shifts shyly under scrutiny, one heel to another while still wearing that expression, and contemplates coming closer.

More realistically, however, hindsight will admit that the aquamarine gemstones, pale compared to the beetle’s carapace, widen to behold with aroused reverence the crown of addiction personified, not won over by the expression of concern and sympathy so indicative of a woman with a good heart, as if the heart of the stranger is of no interest to a woman like Rouge. It's been so long since she indulged herself.

Maybe just to say hello. One heel, then the other. Maybe just to ask if the taller bat is okay. Most women are taller but this one is statuesque and the beetle shifts, feeling so small by comparison. But the bat is staring and seemingly astounded, now, instead of tired and distressed, and perhaps she feels better just because of this expression of concern and sympathy. Beautiful women receive such scorn.

Rouge has to get her hands on this beetle, no, she has to touch and taste this shell, claim it as her own, even for a night. The issue of this prize being the stranger’s head, crowned as it is by the shimmering dome of something somehow purer than diamond, something shiny that the bat has never seen on any other beetle, before, can be solved with seduction, sabotage and sex.

Shadow is suddenly left to meet with Sonic’s flirtation on his own, almost protesting the distant pat on the arm as compensation, but Rouge too soon lets her best friend go and hurriedly saunters through the crowd to reach that clarity, that light and dark, that colour.

The beetle is unprepared for the approach of the bat. Not her shapely legs, wide hips, slender waistline and the swell of her breasts, oozing from a gap in the shirt, unbuttoned too casually to be unintentionally risqué. Fur so pale and fangs showing in a smile that seems strange enough to be sinister, it’s like being approached by a vampire.

Edged with excitement that borders on desperation, heat spreading between strong thighs and sultry self-confidence blasting noise in the ears as Rouge’s heart races, she draws to a stop before the stranger, allowing for one woman to tip her head back to meet the other’s eyes above, a barely respectful distance between their bodies.

The beetle’s cheeks ignite and she stutters her hello.

Cool yet enchanted by the universe in that carapace, not yet touched, at least, not by anyone important, and the urge is painful, the bat purrs a hi in return, and then a cursory request for a name, and waits politely for the reply.

Still delighted to receive such attention from someone so tall and mysteriously powerful and beautiful and apparently grateful for compassion, the stranger introduces herself for the first time.

And it’s so perfect, Rouge thinks, offering her hand, faintly trembling with restraint, to Jewel.


End file.
